Addiction

I want to quit you.

I want to cease googling your name and finding pieces of information that puts you further up, in a pedestal of greatness I can never reach no matter how high I raise my arms.

I want to part from staying up late to lurk your affairs, to stop visiting your blogs, your social networks, to refrain from reading every imprint you leave in the world wide web.

I want to renounce your awards, your accomplishments, things that will confirm what you used to tell me: that for the world, where I am, where I stand, where I write, is merely a speck of dust no one want to learn nor visit.

I want to give up reading your works, dreaming of stepping on the same patch of earth, wanting wanting wanting to be where you are, to know where you'll be, hoping that by some swift of destiny, we'll meet.

I want to stop admiring you because the more I do, the more you become someone I cannot have, and this will make me want you even more.

I want to quit you. I really do.